Monday, 16 April 2012


wandering the shore
wondering what she will find
chased by the sand spirits
the whirling dervishes
urged on by the roar of the waves
the beach gradually surrenders
pieces of driftwood
worn smooth by insistent tide
sharp-edged razor shells
fit for a barber's salon
shiny pebbles
beady eyes plucked from a sea monster
the happy curator
lays out her acquisitions on the sand
like a mermaid at her dressing table
in the distance
a seagull cries
the marram grass whispers
a crab scuttles away

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